


Mian's Doll

by Writerleft



Series: Comes Marching Home [49]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Angst, F/F, Family Bonding, PTSD, Trauma, Triggers, with some cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 19:09:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11652876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writerleft/pseuds/Writerleft
Summary: Been kicking this idea around for a while, and wanted to write more Mian for... reasons. Right after Turf Wars drops might not be the best time to post something so angsty, but... gosh, this family is cute! And hey, Turf Wars is great, but I'm proud of what I've been doing here, and this IS a good example of the tonal difference between the two timelines!Comments always appreciated, and I love to chat!Visit my tumblr! Say hi! Or at least enjoy the flood of Korrasami reblogs, haha!





	Mian's Doll

“Woosh!” Mian said, holding the plush Korra doll above her head as she ran around her moms’ bedroom. Korra laughed, legs crossed on the bed, surrounded by all the little versions of herself she’d had made for her wife, years ago. All but one, hidden deep in the closet, too precious to get rid of, but too harsh a memory to put on display...

Korra shook herself, focusing on the present, not the past. On their ridiculously adorable, hyper daughter.  “That one’s your favorite, then?” 

“I love her hair!” Mian said, swooping her down and snuggling the wolf tail against her face. “You used to have your hair like this, Mommy?”  

Korra smiled. Most of the dolls did, though not the little Future Industries Fire Ferrets one currently in her hand—she was wearing a helmet. “Yeah, for a long time.” 

Mian hopped up on the bed, several of the little Korra’s bouncing around her feet. “Why’d you cut it? It’s fun! Can I grow my hair like that? Are you gonna grow it back?” 

Korra shrugged, the sort of subtle ‘this isn’t my favorite topic’ cue that Mian was far, far too young to pick up on. “It was… just the right time. It reminded me of when I fought some bad guys, and I didn’t want to think of that anymore.” 

“But you beat  _ all  _ the bad guys!” Mian said, bringing her knees up as she jumped to try to get even higher. “When you beat all the bad guys you get to wear your hair any way you want!” 

“Oh, that’s the rule, is it?” Korra laughed, gathering the dolls out of the way of Mian’s feet. 

“Yeah!” Mian insisted, holding her doll like it was flying again. “You’re the strongest!” 

Korra grinned, shifting onto her knees with mischief in her eye. “Don’t let Mamasami hear you say that. She’ll come in here and tickle us both into submission!” Korra made little scrunching motions with her fingers, grasping toward Mian playfully.

Mian yelped, bouncing away and trying to run off the bed. Her foot slipped on one of the dolls, and she tumbled. 

Korra gasped, already off the bed to make sure Mian was okay, but her daughter wasn’t bothered by her fall in the slightest. However, the doll in her hand had gotten a leg caught beneath the nightstand as she’d landed, tearing it off at the hip. Mian let go of it, standing, dusting herself off…

Korra stared at the doll. Laying on its side, wolf tail flopped on the ground. Broken. Broken.

“Mommy?” 

She was sweating, blood thundering in her ears. 

Broken. 

  
*  
  


A frantic knocking came from low on Asami’s office door. Mian knew better than to interrupt her when she was drafting—and Korra was watching her besides. “What is it, Mian?” 

“Mama,” came the sob from the other side, and Asami could hear in two syllables that something was deeply wrong. “Help.” 

Asami rushed to the door, project forgotten. She crouched as she threw the door open, her hands on Mian’s face, on her body, checking for problems. “What’s wrong?” 

“I… I broke Mommy.” 

Asami’s stomach clenched. “Korra?” 

No answer. 

She scooped Mian up, squeezing her tight. “Korra?!” 

Asami carried her into the hallway, glancing into Mian’s room. Nothing was amiss there. She continued, stepping into the living room. “Korra?” Where  _ was _ she? 

Mian was staring, her eyes scared. Toward Asami and Korra’s bedroom. “Korra…?” she said again, hurrying in. 

Her wife was on the floor, leaning against the wall near the closet, staring away, at nothing. She didn’t react to them coming into the room. 

Asami set Mian down, staring at Korra. “Mian… Mian, honey, go pour a glass of water for Mommy, okay?” 

“I didn’t mean to,” Mian said, sniffling. “We were just playing…”

“I know. I know you were, but I need you to go pour a glass of water, okay?” Asami said, kneeling beside her wife, gently taking her hand. “Korra?” 

Korra was miles and years away. Asami stroked her hand, moving into Korra’s field of vision, scrunching down to look her right in the eyes. “Hey… hey, Korra. I’m here with you. You’re safe and at home. It’s Asami, and you’re safe and at home, okay?” 

She gave Korra’s hand a gentle squeeze, raising her free hand to stroke Korra’s hair. “Why don’t we go out into the living room. Okay? Let’s go sit in the living room? Do you want to go to the living room, or do you want to stay in here?”  

Korra didn’t answer. She kept breathing, staring away. 

Asami bit her lip, looking around. Mian was fine. What had happened? 

There. On the floor, a few feet away. One of the little Korra dolls, a leg torn right off. 

Damn. She didn’t want to touch it, that would might draw Korra’s attention back.   


Instead, she made sure she was between her wife and the doll that triggered this. She came in slowly, gently, and hugged her. “You’re safe, Korra. Nobody’s gonna hurt you. We’re home. You’re with your wife and your daughter, and you’re home, and you’re safe. Okay?” 

Korra didn’t move, but she did close her eyes. 

Better. Something, at least. “Korra, can you stand with me? I think you might like it better in the living room. Can you stand with me and come to the living room?” 

Korra’s breathing… changed. There was some labor to it. Asami took it as a sign, putting an arm around her wife to help her stand. Korra came up with her, not dead weight, but without any real direction or sense of her own agency, and allowed Asami to lead her through the door. 

The twenty steps down the hall, across the living room, and to the couch were agonizing, each one of them dripping with worry. This wasn’t the first freeze-up Asami had seen, but it was the first one this bad in a while. She’d known, deep down, something would happen again, something always did, but there was always that hope… 

They reached the couch, and Asami slowly helped Korra down, then guided her further to lean against Asami herself. She kept her arms wrapped around Korra, stroking her hair gently. 

“I’m designing a new kind of airplane,” Asami said, knowing full well it didn’t matter what she talked about, so long as it was normal. Safe. Korra liked hearing her prattle on about her designs—the less Korra understood about it, the better. “There’s no reason to have stacked wings, if we can get the engines efficient enough. And more efficient engines means faster planes, and that’s already worth it by itself, wouldn’t you say?” 

Korra shifted her weight against her, nuzzling her head into Asami’s neck. 

Asami took a deep breath, and continued talking, and holding her, now and then, gently, kissing Korra’s forehead and saying her name. Slowly, trickle by trickle, Korra came back to herself, squeezing Asami’s hand in turn, nodding at Asami’s questions, even starting to answer them. Asami was halfway through describing the new exhaust manifold system for her motorcycle when Asami felt Korra’s heavy swallow, and long, ragged breath. 

“I’m… I’m okay,” Korra said, weak. “Thirsty.” 

Asami nodded, looking up from Korra for the first time in… however long. Wasn’t Mian supposed to have—

Mian. 

Asami took a breath, extricating herself gently from her wife and grabbing a quick cup of water. She glanced at the door, and saw it was still locked—she hadn’t left the apartment, at least. 

Korra took the glass with a look of thanks, and gulped it down. Then, a deep, centering breath, before asking, “Where’s Mian?” 

  
*  
  


Korra put her hand on the knob of Mian’s door. 

“I don’t think it was closed before,” Asami whispered. It rarely ever was.  


Korra gave her a nod, and raised her voice, just a little, careful not to sound harsh. “Mian? Mian, baby, are you okay?” 

No response through the door. 

She and Asami looked at each other. Then Korra took a breath, and turned the knob, gently pushing it open, but not entering. 

At first, the room looked empty, but Korra noticed Mian’s favorite blanket wasn’t on her bed, but peeking out from under it. “Mian, everything’s okay now,” Korra said. “We’d like to come in.” 

A weak voice sounded from under the bed. “I didn’t mean to.”

“We know, honey,” Korra said, taking a soft step into the room. She motioned Asami to follow her, but instead of approaching the bed, they hugged the wall opposite, and sat down where they could see underneath. Snuggled up in her blanket as she was, the little wet sparkles of Mian’s eyes were barely visible. “Are you okay?” 

“Are you gonna send me back?” 

Korra shook her head immediately, struggling not to cry.  “We'd never do that, Mian. Never. Never. We love you! I love you. This wasn’t your fault.” Her voice hitched. It was bad enough her mind did this to her, she’d come to terms with Asami loving her enough to be with her through it, but now her daughter had to suffer for her sake too? “It’s just… it’s a problem Mommy has, sometimes. But it wasn’t your fault.” 

Asami clutched her hand again. “It wasn’t Mommy’s fault, either,” she insisted, her voice rough. 

Bless her. “That’s right,” Korra agreed, reminded herself. “Some… some bad people hurt me, a long time ago. Sometimes I’ll see something or hear something, and Mommy feels like she’s being hurt all over again. But that’s the bad people’s fault, Mian. Not yours.” 

“But… but why did they want to hurt you, mommy?” Now she sounded even  _ more _ scared. 

“Because they know Mommy was the strongest,” Asami said. “They knew she’d always be good, and since they wanted to do something bad, they had to stop her first. But she was stronger than they were. And she proves it again every single day.” 

Korra’s lip trembled. She coughed, roughly—spirits, this amazing wife of hers...

“Is that…” Mian started, unravelling her blanket a little. “Is that why you cut your hair?”  

Korra chuckled. “Actually, Mian, it pretty much is. Could you come out of there, now? It would make me feel better if I could hug you.” 

Mian considered a moment, then wriggled out from underneath the bed, dragging the blanket with her. Korra had her arms wide, and Mian sprang into them, clutching Korra tight around the neck. “I’m sorry, Mommy. I was scared.” 

Korra rubbed her back, and Asami put her arms around them both. “It’s okay, nugget. I’m sorry I scared you. We should’ve told you before.” 

Mian nodded, accepting this new information. “I’m sorry I broke your doll.” 

“It was Mama’s doll,” Korra said. “And you know she has a bunch of them.” 

“Mian can have them all,” Asami said. “And we can fix the injured one too, if you want.” 

Mian shook her head, pulling back. “Mommy has to remember how the bad people hurt her. I want…” she frowned. 

“What is it?” Asami asked. 

“It’s okay, Mian,” Korra reassured her. “What do you want?” 

“I want… I want the dolly to know that it’s okay if she’s hurt. She doesn’t need to get better for me to love her.” 

Korra lost it. She was sobbing immediately, clutching her precious, precious daughter tight to her. “Oh, gosh!” she said, then said again. “Mian that’s… that’s the sweetest thing…” 

Asami’s voice was hoarse too. “Oh…” was all she managed. 

Mian looked scared again, clearly worried for a second that she’d done the wrong thing and hurt them both, but they held her close. “You said the right thing,” Korra reassured her. “You said the best thing, nugget.” 

“Oh… okay,” Mian said, still not sure why her moms were blubbering so much. “She can still fly, I think, but she’s gonna need something to help her walk, when I can’t carry her.” 

Korra found Asami’s eyes, already seeking hers. We have something like that, her eyes asked. Are you going to be okay with that? 

Korra bit her lip. The wheelchair, perfectly sized for a doll, hidden in the closet. “I… think maybe we could build her a crutch?” 

Asami let out a breath, then gave Korra’s shoulder a squeeze. 

Korra smiled at their daughter. “Go get the doll, okay? Let me see if… let me see.” 

Mian nodded, then scampered out of the room. Asami put her arm around Korra’s shoulders, taking her hand. “You’re sure you’re okay if we leave the doll…” 

Korra shrugged, watching the doorway. “It wasn’t just that. Maybe, if I expect it?” 

“We can explain to her, if it’s going to be a problem…” 

Just then, Mian came back into the room, the little dolly smushed against her front. Beneath her crossed arms, one little leg dangled.

“We’ll… we’ll have to at least keep any more stuffing from escaping,” Korra said, looking at the doll and, happily, seeing her daughter’s smile instead of that day with Zaheer. “And just promise, no roughhousing with any dolls that look like me or Mama where I can see. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Mian said, squeezing her doll. “Mama, can you help me make a crush for her?” 

“A crutch,” Asami corrected with a smile. “And I’d do anything for Korra, whatever size she is. C’mon.” 

  
*  
  


Mian cuddled up with the doll when she went to bed that night, and for years thereafter. Every morning, Mian put the crutch under her favorite dolly’s arm, and remembered how strong her Mommy was. Because she was hurt, and didn’t let it stop her. Because she was hurt, but that only made Mama and Mian love her even more. 

Because she was her Mommy, and nobody—other than Mama, maybe—was stronger. 

And because, even if she was still small, and she still coughed sometimes, it made her feel strong too. 

**Author's Note:**

> Been kicking this idea around for a while, and wanted to write more Mian for... reasons. Right after Turf Wars drops might not be the best time to post something so angsty, but... gosh, this family is cute! And hey, Turf Wars is great, but I'm proud of what I've been doing here, and this IS a good example of the tonal difference between the two timelines! 
> 
> Comments always appreciated, and I love to chat! [Visit my tumblr! Say hi! Or at least enjoy the flood of Korrasami reblogs, haha! ](https://threehoursfromtroy.tumblr.com/)


End file.
